Losing
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Slash, alternate ending. L knows what losing feels like.


L know what losing feels like. Losing is Light's cock against his insides, Light's teeth in his throat, Light's fists in his hair. Losing is his back rubbed raw on the carpet, his skull cracking against walls and headboards. Failure tastes of Light's cock in his mouth, Light's fingers down his throat, Light's tongue against his own. It smells of sweat and heat and the sickly, clinical smell of condoms and lube. And it is glorious.

L knows it is losing because Light simply wouldn't let this happen otherwise. If they weren't close to the end. Fucking L is Light's victory round, his trophy, and it is L's consolation prize. There is no affection in it, no frustration, not strategy. Light Yagami would not take a risk like this without some insurance. Light Yagami is showing off.

L knows this. He knows it all, yet he loves it. He can't help himself. He never imagined another person could feel this good. He can't bring himself to even regret it.

* * *

The next morning, they're damp with sweat and other things, cuddled, spooned, and L's not a virgin anymore. He doesn't feel any different.

He disentangles himself and showers and gets on the computers like nothing has changed.

Light joins him a little later. He is free now, has no need to work the way he has been, but he has stuck around ever since the cuffs were removed.

L is busy emailing Near, amongst others. He spends the day preparing all involved for his departure, his computer to self-destruct, for the emails to go out, the data to wipe.

Light cannot quite see what he is doing, L makes sure of that, but he senses something up.

"Are you trying something different?" he asks, almost casually, the first thing he has said to L directly all day.

"Yes," he says.

A few of them look up, but continue working when L doesn't elaborate.

Light doesn't pursue it. He looks at L uncertainly a few times that day, though L can't think why he'd be worried.

He plans to work late, later than late, that night, when he realises Light is staying up with him. So he changes tack and puts the computer on lock, like he is just going to the bathroom, and goes to his bedroom, where he locks the door and works without a light. He's not disturbed.

* * *

Light seems to have taken the hint. He doesn't come near L again. As the hours drag into days and the days into weeks, L wonders what Light is waiting for. It is not only his own death that is being stalled but everyone's. The murders have come to a complete standstill, and the world is baffled. He hopes Light is not building up to some grand finale.

It is beginning to grate on L, this waiting. He has done everything he can and more to help Near and the others, and now all that's left is a feeling of helplessness and vague disgust at letting Light near him.

His stomach churns day and night. He loses his appetite. He throws up once, in private, and kneels there with his throat burning, vaguely surprised by how much it hurts.

He showers and cleans up and goes back to the main room like nothing has happened. They all look at him and the room sways.

"Ryuzaki?"

He comes to with Light pale and shaking him and holding him hard enough to hurt.

"You scared me," he keeps saying.

He stuffs something into L's hand.

"Sweets," he says, like he's loathe to admit it. "I fainted once playing tennis in a heatwave. The sugar brought me right back."

L stuffs five into his mouth at once, and feels instantly better. The others open a window, bring him a glass of water and he gets on with it.

Light's glances become resentful.

"If that was some test of my reaction," he spits. "I hope you're happy. I hope you're convinced."

* * *

Light knocks on his door that night.

He should have known, should have seen it coming in the change in glance.

"I know you're not asleep, Ryuzaki," he calls through the door. "I can see your activity on the Drive."

L sighs, pushes the laptop aside and opens the door. He doesn't step aside to let Light in.

"I'm sorry, Light, I was about to sleep. What can I do for you?"

Light glares at him and pushes past.

L lets the door close and turns to face him. He doesn't join Light on the bed.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks tightly. "I noticed you haven't been stuffing yourself so much. You're probably having withdrawal symptoms from the artificial sugar and preservatives."

"Probably," L agrees.

Light's head goes down. His knuckles whiten on the edge of the bed.

"L," he says, and it is measured, careful. "I just wanted to ask…" He looks almost embarrassed. "Did I hurt you?"

He peers up at L for a reaction, and for a moment L genuinely doesn't know what he's talking about. Then the sick feeling in his gut reminds him.

"No," he says, poker-faced. "I have been trying to be professional."

"You've never been concerned about being professional before."

L just looks at him. He has no interest in fighting battles he has already lost.

"You were 'professional' before," Light goes on. "You can be professional and still talk to me."

"We are talking."

"Don't be obtuse."

L walks over to sit on the bed, and fair distance from Light.

Light's eyes follow him.

"Let me guess. You're feeling guilty for enjoying it because you obviously still think I'm Kira."

L feels his own anger surfacing, not just at this simplified version of the truth but the _lie_ in it. _You think_ I'm Kira.

"What do you want, Light?" L hears himself saying. "Your cock in my mouth one last time?"

Light gets up and comes to him, jerks L's jaw up to look at him. "Is that what you think this is about?"

L slaps his hand away.

He doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are blazing.

"Answer me. Do you think you're going to die soon?"

"Leave me alone, Light."

He gets up to go when Light stops him, practically wrestles him back down, and L lets him; he can't be bothered.

Held down by his wrists, L thinks dully that it is a good thing Light is not hard, that he is not turned on by this sort of thing. He has enough worrying qualities as it is.

"I'm just trying to understand," Light says from above, breathing slow and controlled, while his body's as tense as wire. "How we went from that, how we went from being close, to you acting like you hate me."

"I am trying to stay professional, Light. You are a suspect, and you're 17."

"You're only seven years older than me, L, with the mental and social age of a four year old, so don't get all high and mighty with me."

His beautiful face is curled with contempt, flushed with anger. L stares up at him.

"How do you know?"

Light blinks. "What?"

"How do you know I'm seven years older than you?" He looks up at Light patiently. "I never told you how old I am."

Light just stares at him. He looks completely lost.

L answers for him.

"You know because you know who I am. You know my name."

"No."

"Yes," L says, seizing his advantage. "And when I die soon, people will know why."

"L." He closes his eyes like he wants to push his hands in them. "I don't know how old you are. You must have told me. It must have come out in university."

L just looks at him, deadpan.

"For God's sake." He gets up, like the very feel of L disgusts him. L watches his reactions with interest. Not quite as distraught and infuriated as he'd expected. Perhaps Light is getting used to being foiled.

"What is wrong with you?" Light hisses now, pacing back and forth in front of him. "Why can't you just admit you feel something for me?"

"Is that all you want? Is that what you're waiting for?"

"Don't say it like that," he snarls, and he is pushing L down on the bed again, nails in his shoulders, and L is lying there waiting for it to happen when something breaks. "I'm scared."

L studies him. "Scared?"

He nods, not quite meeting L's eye. "I'm scared of ending up like Misa."

"Misa?"

Light looks at L like he is the slowest man on Earth. "I'm scared that when I burn the death notes, I'll just be in love with you and not know why."

L sucks in all the air between them, like the truth is oxygen.

"And you'll leave, of course," Light goes on, ignoring his eyes, angry again like the moment never even happened. "You'll leave and you'll go on to your next case, your next victory, and it will have all been for nothing." He glares at L like he wants to kill him. "If I can't win, I can't let you win, either. So I have to destroy the evidence against me. I have to burn the death notes."

L doesn't look at him for some time.

Finally he remarks, "That was quite a confession."

Light snorts and gets off him. "Not that it'll do you much good. I'll deny everything." He smooths his clothes.

"Yes." L looks at Light, unsure how to proceed. "I think it is a very good idea to destroy the death notes."

Light raises his eyebrows.

"You'll have a hard time convincing anyone of my guilt without them."

"But it will end."

Light looks at him for a moment.

"Come on." He goes to the door and stand there, waiting for L. "Let's go burn them," he says simply.

* * *

He follows Light to a spot he clearly recognises, then drops to his side to help him dig.

He flinches at the sight of the Shinigami, nearly falling into the hole, and Light has to grab him to steady him.

"Hey," the Shinigami says to L, looking him over with interest.

L swallows. Light's hand loosens on his arm as he recovers.

"Are these the only death notes on Earth right now?"

"Sure are," the thing chirps. "Want to try one?"

L ignores this.

"How many pages have been torn out of them?"

"Oh, I don't know about that…"

L looks at Light.

He rolls his eyes.

"I've already destroyed those. I had to. You were getting too close."

Indeed.

L takes a lighter out of his pocket. Ryuk watches with interest, but he doesn't try to stop him. Both of them train their eyes on Light.

L sees it when it happens; the jolt, the widening eyes, confusion, loosening tension.

He looks at L as if for help.

"How will we find out who did it?"

* * *

Light's confused on the entire trip back, and it's a little grating; L hates lying, and now he's going to think of a big one. One that involves anonymous, untraceable instructions. It is suspicious and unlikely enough for the team not to greet it as good news.

"Just wait and see," L tells them, and opens his laptop to go through his non-Kira related emails. They are nearing thousands.

* * *

"I know I did it."

L looks down at Light at his side. He is on his back on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling.

"There are so many gaps in my memory," he says. "So many things that don't add up. I think even my Father suspects. I see him looking at me…"

L sighs as he trails off. He closes his laptop and puts it aside.

"Do you want to know how I did it?"

Light blinks up at him, ignoring L's hand in his hair. Then he scowls.

"I imagine you got it out of me in bed."

L chuckles at the idea. "I think that sort of thing is more your forte than mine." He runs his fingers through Light's hair. "You told me. Of your own accord."

He shakes his head at once.

"I wouldn't."

"Well, you did."

"I was dreaming I wrote myself a note," he says now, absently. "' _You're Kira and you're in love with L_.'"

"Sounds like you don't need a note."

Light pulls him down by the collar, and L feels the familiar little fear rush. "I gave up everything for you," he says into L's ear. "You better make it worth my while."


End file.
